Part 2 - The InquisitionThe light casted into the alley revealed what was left of the skirmish â several black glass beads. Inquisitively, Vilthis promptly picked one and held it towards the gentle glow of the Azure Crystal at dawn. It revealed an unfamiliar symbol - One of a black fist shrouded in black flames, seemingly siphoning the very light cast on it on a superficial observation. He promptly slipped one sample into an empty vial lined again his bandolier.
A great sense of dread overwhelmed Vilthis as the lingering sinister whisper grew into a piercing screech of multitude voices, shattering all the remaining beads that lain on the flagstones. The black shards gradually sublimed into a dense black fog, which dissipates in the light of the brightening crystal.
Peculiarly, a small groan emerged from a corner of the alley behind a dark woord barrel as the multitude of voices died down. One cultist still remained, wounded Yilan with a large raw gash across his chest, the deepest section of the cut revealed the extent of the damage - it exposed a section of the ribs. His appearance unkempt clad with a muddle of improvised armour, embarrassingly most of it appeared to be fashioned from kitchen crockery.
Vilthis approached the Yilan and swung his falchion towards his neck, resting the edge of the blade against his neck.
âYour name, your allegiance, your master, SpeakâŠâ said Vilthis
The Yilan stared hollowly back at Vilthis, visibly shaken and probably in a state of shock from the bleeding. Needing answers Vilthis contemplated on taking a prisoner.
âAnswers are always in short supplyâŠâ Vilthis griped to himself as he reversed the blade, slipping the curved end of the falchion behind the Yilanâs neck and swept him down on the floor as he cast magic sleep on him. Flipping him over, Vilthis emptied a vial of tissue regenerating salve over the Yilanâs injuries stabilising his conditionâŠ
Hours laterâŠThe Yilan man groggily opened his eyes; he feels the aching sore on his wrists and his legs dangling freely beneath him, his confused mind struggle to justify what this sensation meant and struggled to regain his consciousness. Ignorance would be bliss if he had known what is to come.
He screamed in terror as he vision restored. The realisation of being strung up high in what seem to be in a windowless tower brought an oppressive spirit of solitude and despair, one that broke his resolve and begun weeping profusely.
âI see that youâre awake, excellentâ Vilthis exclaimed.
âI pray that youâve rested well? I hope so, this would be a long night.â Said Vilthis as he paced about the spiral platforms in the tower.â
âHowever, I would say myself to be quite âreasonableâ. I do allow my prisoners to decide on the duration and the procedures of the interrogations, directly dependent to the levels of cooperation I receive. So, are you prepared to cooperate?â
A silence broke by the weeping and cryptic chanting of the Yilan was the only reply.
âWhat is your name?â asked Vilthis patiently
The weeping and chanting persist.
Vilthis raised his cabalist axis and directed a brief, low intensity entropic bolt towards the Yilan who screamed and his chanting grew louder.
âWrong answerâ Vilthis lashes him again with the dark bolts with greater intensity.
The bolts link for a few seconds the Yilanâs soul to the Death Realm, a horrible experience of pain. Those who do not have the strength or will to endure the transition into the Death Realm lie dead in Yliakum until someone has the good sense to drop their bodies into one of the burial wells.
âImus! My name is Imus Bernol! You Dakkru hound! Thrice cursed be Dakkru! Our master will triumph!â shouted the distressed Yilan who stared fiercely into the masked face of Vilthis.
âWe are getting somewhere.â said Vilthis replies in his prim demeanor.
âI must remark conversely that there are essential difference between me and my mistress. Dakkru has no alignments; to her weâre just body counts to sustain her mechanics in this universe. She governs death like clockwork of rules in her Dark Realm, seemingly making Death the only true equality between us. Benevolent donât you think?â Explained Vilthis tolerantly.
âHer agents however are not as forgivingâ Vilthis replied in an unexpected Harsh tone.
Vilthis holds out a vial containing a black glass bead before the Yilan âI know what this is Imus, this symbol surfaced once before in the annals recorded in the year 105 where the refugees of the Dwarven city of Rooms and the Demorian city of Ilith Thalasind recorded this symbol on the banners of the army that invaded their cities.â
The Yilan eyes widens, his deceitful tongue sprouts nervously âIt is merely a marble..â
Seething with anger Vilthis approaches the Yilan. Vilthis takes extraordinary offense upon conduct that undermines to his patience. His good natured tolerance ran dry. With great disadain, Vilthis plunged his undead appendage deeply into the Yilans torso lashing his tendrils within his body, scrambling his innards as he telepathically dominated his mind circumventing all his metal resistance in his dying moment to examine his memories deeply.
A horrible epiphany awaits VilthisâŠ
To be Continued